Subway Angel
by Jerkess
Summary: Ichigo Kurosaki ran away after his mom’s death. However, he gets mistaken as a beggar by Rukia, the Subway Angel. When she comes after him for something she hid on his body, will the two find more than just the perils of the Manhattan Underground?


Disclaimer: -inserts some witty disclaimer about not owning Bleach here-

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10444

_Rukia _

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I was in a rush. Well, a rush was a bit of an understatement. Actually, calling this a matter of life and death wouldn't do the issue much justice either. Anyhow, I had to clear out fast, or it was all over… for me, and the hapless retard that I stole from. A day in the life of me, Rukia Kuchiki, former spelling bee champ of Seireitei now turned underground metro-link thief.

Go figure.

The bend that I just rounded housed the little midget sweeper Ururu and with her two shady companions. I raced past them without much thought, but a whim backpedaled me to the illegal candy shop they had opened a god knows how many years ago.

"Yo Urahara! Some help please?" I called. My voice echoed down the dusty counters and (hopefully) traveled to the rumpled figure in the back. The chest seemed to be raising in rhythm with its snores, but the act was just a bit too artificial for me to buy.

"Wake up!" I knew that my voice rose a couple of notches, but I'm sure yours would too, had a band of twelve policemen been on your trail for a couple grand that you didn't have. Okay, so maybe I did have some illegitimately obtained cash on me, but hey, a girl's gotta make a living somehow.

I gritted my teeth. "Urahara, today's not the time, this is not the place, and I'm _so_ not the person to screw with right now!" I nearly screeched. My chest rose in anxious little swells, and the stubble-ridden form in front suddenly propped up and leapt next to me.

"You called, lovely Subway Angel?" The man named Urahara smirked contently, fanning himself while inspecting my wares (or lack, of in this case).

"Gee, thanks answering the first time," I snorted, somewhat relieved he was willing to see me today. I was annoyed, nevertheless, and still in the biggest hurry of my life. The issue wasn't going to resolve itself.

"You know," I spat, dangling a piece of worm-infested gummybear infront of Urahara, "You might want to invest in some hearing aid…or some real candy," The big oaf still grinned unflinchingly infront of me. I sighed. "I'm going to be de-winged angel very soon if you don't tell me what tunnel/wing of the station is open and friendly to me right now."

Slowly, he gestured to the northwestern exit and smiled a sly smile. "That will be twenty bucks, Rukia-chan."

"Twenty?! For a simple direction?" No way in hell am I paying that much. I turned to leave.

"Oh, wait," he drawled lazily after me, "did I just slip up the stations in my head? My memory's pretty hazy, but I'm sure I can be induced to remember…"

"Urgghhh," I groaned in frustration. I could already hear the muffled sounds of the police clumsily clawing their way through the subway, and I had no other allies in this remote region of the underground. "Fine, Urahara," I said as I quickly shook out two bills from my bag, "but I can't believe you're doing this to a friend. Just tell me the safe areas, _now_." Actually, this was a legitimate way to earn money in the black market, yet that didn't mean I couldn't grumble a bit about it.

"Tisk tisk, Rukia-chan, how dare you insult me?" he taunted smilingly, "as a friend, I would never play with your head."

"You mean to say that the first time you told me the Northwest way was really true?"

He nodded, eyes glinting with amusement under his ragged hat brim.

"Good day to you," I said stiffly. That was so uncool of him. I was miffed, to say the least. I started sprinting towards the aforementioned tunnel before he shot another question my way.

"What level are these on?"

I knew what he meant. "Third, so you better clear out too. They brought guard dogs with them also. I'm off."

I sprinted quickly through the filthy tunnel, shoes squeaking sporadically whenever I looked over my shoulder and didn't mind my feet. Pools of stagnant water had accumulated due to torrential New York rains, and they didn't help my cause one bit.

I was almost at the end of the tunnel, near the gutters and invariably my getaway, when I first heard the distinct snap of hard combat boots on wet marble. It was a sound that I was all too familiar with, in a bad way. These third level police guards were highly trained and moved freakishly fast, regardless of terrain.

I cursed to myself. Not a lot of beggars or street hobos lived in this part of the underground. Still, I was reasonably lucky when I spotted a relatively clean bundle of rags housing a person to my left. I needed someone else to unwillingly be my partner in crime and hide the money. That way, in the worst-case scenario, I would get caught, but the money would still be gone, and no amount of any truth serum would make me talk, because by then I truthfully wouldn't know where the money was.

The boy who was going to 'help' me was sleeping soundly, and I stuffed the big wad of notes somewhere deep inside of his robes. I stopped when I was done hiding my money, and slowly examined his face. He was surprisingly clean-shaven, and couldn't have been older than me by much. A pity behind his homelessness, I'm sure. Even in his sleep, his features were contorted into a scowl/grimace hybrid.

The beggar's lips were turned down in a frustrating frown, and I was sure that even if he woke, I wouldn't have wanted to hear his sob story. Hell, my whole life was a sob story, and I didn't need to make anything more depressing than it was. My current life as a known 'angel' and an undercover thief was working pretty well, thank you very much.

The next moments were lapses in my better judgment.

You know, he had orange hair, and so I was wondering what color his eyes were. Forgive my typicalteenagegirlimpulse things.

I thought they were going to be blue, or at least green, but when I lifted up his eyelid, I was disappointed to only find a boring brown. Well, they were sort of a melting chocolate ice cream color, but that's just rambling commentary on my part. The eyes blinked hazily, and I realized that I had better get going.

Blinking.

Damn.

He was awake. _Damn!_ Now how was this supposed to work?

"Put the eyelid down."

Ugh, what?

"I said, put the eyelid down."

It was the beggar speaking hoarsely.

"Oh," I said lamely as I followed instructions. "Didn't know you were awake."

"I wasn't, until some inconsiderate midget decided to give me an eye exam."

The redheaded boy glowered at me unblinkingly, and I gave up. "Fine, just…don't move from this spot until I come back, you hear?"

He scoffed. "Why should I listen to you, little midget?"

"Excuse me?"

I couldn't believe it. Apparently he didn't know who I was. And I couldn't correct him and make him fear for incurring my wrath, for the police were sure to come across him. One interrogation with retard boy here and I would be gone for good. I had to bite my tongue and quell the urge of seeing his eyes widen in surprise when he hears of my real identity. Only for this moment, though. Boasting was good, but not on the risk of my life.

I settled with kicking up a little dust as I left on my indignant march away. I made sure the rude teenager on the ground was coughing uncontrollably before I hid away.

The police came and went, and thankfully, due to Urahara's advice, didn't find me. When I emerged from the reserve of clean water, the dogs had lost my trail and were leading steadily away from me.

The police were gone. And unfortunately, so was the boy that I had hidden ten thousand dollars into.

_Shit._

_End of chapter one_

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I'm experimenting with first person narratives of Ichigo and Rukia, and so I apologize if this is horribly OOC or anything. It's more fluff and crackup than anything else. This will be a shorter IchiRuki fic.

Please review and tell me if this is an extremely bad attempt. :)


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